


Of Flesh and Bone

by Maeglin_Yedi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2013-10-18
Packaged: 2017-12-29 18:52:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maeglin_Yedi/pseuds/Maeglin_Yedi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucius craves what Voldemort cannot give him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Flesh and Bone

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing: LV/LM  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Warning: mild bloodplay, rough sex  
> Disclaimer: Not mine. Never were. Never will be. They all belong to J.K. Rowling
> 
> Summary: Lucius craves what Voldemort cannot give him. 
> 
> A/N: written for challenge 12 on [Theatrical Muse](http://www.livejournal.com/community/theatrical_muse/): Hearing, Sight, Taste, Touch, and Smell. The five senses. Which would be the worst one for you to lose, and why?
> 
> Big thanks to Nimori for the beta!
> 
> Word count: 2513  
> First published: March 2004

"My Lord?"

Voldemort knew that voice, silky and guilty, asking for forgiveness without pronouncing the correct words needed to perform such an impossible task.

There was no forgiveness for the crime Lucius Malfoy had committed; abandoning his Lord and Master to save his own flesh and a few measly Galleons. And yet, there he was, disobeying a direct order, as if Voldemort's control no longer applied to him after so many years spent apart. 

"I said you were all dismissed. That goes for you as well, Lucius." Voldemort turned, still safely hidden in shadows which had offered him so much protection over the last decade.

Lucius stepped through the doorway into the darkened room. "I beg your forgiveness for disobeying you, my Lord, but I thought it might be best to construct a new plan to dispose of the Potter child."

There it was, that dreaded word. Forgiveness. It sounded like nails on a blackboard, and sent shivers through Voldemort's newly acquired skin. He would never forgive Lucius, but he needed him, and Voldemort knew that Lucius knew as much. 

"That Potter child should have perished this evening!" Voldemort's voice sounded strange to his own ears, too high and too cold. Nothing like the deep, velvet tones he used to lure clueless followers with into his service.

"I'm afraid the Potter child is no longer a child," Lucius said quietly, standing behind a chair, hands tightened around the headrest, to disguise nervous trembles most likely. 

"I figured as much." Voldemort stepped closer to the fireplace, feeling suddenly cold and hoping the dying flames would be able to warm his flesh and bones. 

He did not want to remember the recent fiasco. He did not want to acknowledge that Potter had bested him, and had gotten away with hardly a scratch on him. Well, with one convenient scratch, which had returned Voldemort his body. 

Or rather, a new body, in which he wasn't feeling at all comfortable. 

"There are other ways to the child, my Lord."

"I know there are, Lucius." Voldemort looked at Lucius, taking his time to study those familiar features. Lucius had aged, of course, but it only showed in small creases around his eyes and his mouth. His skin was still paler than the Death Eater mask he had worn moments before, and his hair still looked like silver in the light of the fire. 

Voldemort wondered what Lucius was thinking about his own new body, and not for the first time that evening, Voldemort wished himself without a body again. 

There had been freedom and anonymity in existing as a spirit, not to be bothered with seduction of the flesh and agony of the bone. There had been freedom, but not power. 

And Voldemort wanted power. Control. Immortality. The world at his feet. 

He needed this body for all those things, so he ignored that feeble wish for freedom and anonymity, and decided it was time to see what this body could do. How it could make him feel. 

Voldemort hadn't felt anything in a very long time. 

"Do you fear me, Lucius?" he asked conversationally as he strode towards his servant, a sly smile tugging on his lips. 

"My Lord?" A simmer of uncertainty passed through Lucius' eyes before they regained their usual cool demeanor. 

"Do you really want me to repeat myself?" 

"Forgive me. Of course not. And I assure you, my Lord, that I'm quite aware that I am no match for your magical powers and –"

"That is not what I asked." Voldemort ignored that atrocious word Lucius spoke, and raised a single finger, pressing it to Lucius' cheek. Soft, like the petal of a flower, perfumed with expensive shaving lotion. Voldemort had missed touching the world around him, especially skin as fair as Lucius'. 

"My Lord, I'm not sure –"

"Do you fear me, Lucius?" Voldemort breathed into Lucius' ear as he leaned closer, inhaling familiar scent, memorizing it all over again. His finger trailed down Lucius' cheek and over the curve of his mouth, taking in pursed lips too eager to hide the truth. 

"Yes," Lucius finally whispered against Voldemort's finger, and Voldemort pulled back, rewarding Lucius with an approving nod of his head. 

"Good," Voldemort said, and trailed his finger down Lucius' throat until it hooked behind the collar of thick, black robes. "Take those off."

For a moment, Lucius looked as if he wanted to say something, protest even, but as he stared into Voldemort's eyes he lifted his hands and started to undo the buttons. Voldemort smirked, satisfied by Lucius' choice of obedience rather than defiance. 

The only thing that stood between their last fuck and what was to come was time, but clearly time had done more for Lucius than it had for Voldemort. 

For one thing, it had apparently given Lucius the idea that he was no longer obligated to pleasure his Lord in any way Voldemort wanted him to. Well, Voldemort would just have to show him that those things hadn't changed simply because time had passed. 

"And the rest." Voldemort gestured towards Lucius' immaculately pressed shirt and his black trousers as the heavy robes fell to the floor. Eyes as hard and cold as ice, Lucius started on his shirt, his gaze never leaving Voldemort. 

Voldemort's finger explored every inch of pale skin as it was revealed. The shirt fell off Lucius' shoulders just as Voldemort's finger reached the waistband of Lucius' trousers. He followed the trail of blond hair leading down as Lucius pulled them off together with his shoes. 

Lucius' cock was half-hard already, and hardened further under Voldemort's careful touch. 

"You never could resist playing with fire, could you, Lucius?" Voldemort whispered, circling his finger around the purple head of Lucius' prick. 

"I never could resist you, my Lord," Lucius said smoothly.

Voldemort chuckled, rich and dark, and looked up at Lucius with an inviting smile. "You flatter me. I want you on that desk, on your back."

Lucius turned, but halted, looking at the dust-covered desk with nothing short of disgust written all over his face. Giving Voldemort a tight smile, he stepped towards the desk and hoisted himself on top of it, his long hair dragging through the grime and his legs hanging over the side. Voldemort watched him with interest, absorbing every stretch of pale skin with longing eyes. 

He stepped up to the desk, and spread Lucius' legs with restless hands, raking his fingers up Lucius' thigh and giving Lucius' stiff prick a teasing stroke. 

This was the banquet he'd been yearning to taste for over a decade. This was the flesh his fingers, his mouth, his cock had craved even when he'd been without his body. Voldemort pushed himself between Lucius' parted legs, running his spread fingers up Lucius' chest, pinching his nipples. Lucius had propped himself up on his elbows, and watched Voldemort with eyes that couldn't hide his arousal any less than his pulsing cock could. 

He had missed this, Voldemort realized. Another man's body at the mercy of his fingers, his mouth and his cock. He'd missed it more than eating, breathing, sleeping. Just the warmth it radiated, the not quite flawless texture beneath his fingertips, short hairs that tickled in all the right places. And Voldemort gave into his own desires, and worshipped Lucius' body as if it was the world at his feet or a mountain of gold. 

Uncaring what Lucius might think of this, Voldemort lowered his head and flicked the tip of his tongue against Lucius' nipple before sucking it into his mouth. He bit it, softly, just teasing, and then trailed his tongue down Lucius' chest and dipped it into his navel, nuzzling the fine hairs around it. 

Lucius moaned, appearing surprised by his Lord's attention, but did not interfere. Voldemort fucked Lucius' navel lazily with his tongue, inhaling the clean scent of Lucius skin. Then he lowered his head further and his mouth found the head of Lucius' cock. The scent became richer now, musky and heady, and Voldemort licked across the slit, tasting salty and bittersweet pre-come on his tongue.

He couldn't hold back the rasping groan that rose up from this throat, followed by another moan from Lucius as he swallowed down Lucius' cock. 

Slick, pulsing, living flesh against his tongue, food for a starving man, and Voldemort had been starving for fourteen years. He slid his tongue up and down the length, hummed around the hard cock until he heard Lucius fall back against the desk with a dull thud, bucking his hips up against Voldemort's mouth. 

But he needed more unexplored skin beneath his tongue to taste and feel. More sensations to absorb, more mortality to familiarize himself with again.

Voldemort wanted it all, and that drove him to doing something he hadn't done since his school days, when Lucius' father had introduced him to the pleasures of the flesh. He gripped Lucius' thighs, fingers that didn't quite feel like his own clawing at perfect pale skin, and he pushed Lucius' legs up, exposing his firm buttocks and the enticing pucker that lay hidden between those taut cheeks. 

A gasp caught Voldemort's attention, and he looked away from his prize to see Lucius staring at him, eyes uncharacteristically wide and round. Voldemort grinned, a predator about to pounce on his prey, and pressed his face between the hot mounds of flesh, his tongue seeking Lucius' entrance. 

A lick across the tight ring, to allow himself a taste and to inhale the heavy, addicting scent of arousal with a dash of insecurity. Another lick, and then the tip of his tongue prodded against resisting muscles, eager and unforgiving. 

"My Lord," Lucius grunted, thighs flexing against Voldemort's hands until Voldemort's fingers found his cock. Then hips bucked and Lucius groaned something incoherently. Voldemort stabbed against the tight pucker again and again until it admitted defeat and allowed his tongue entrance. Releasing Lucius' prick, Voldemort's hand found Lucius' firm sac, and kneaded it between his agile fingers, squeezing just a bit too hard, and drawing another groan from his willing servant. 

Voldemort's body was on fire, or so it felt, flames devouring his insides, searing his skin and leaking into his burning prick and heated sac until his cock flared at the thought of joining his fingers and tongue in this feast before him. 

A final thrust of his tongue inside Lucius' delectable body, and then Voldemort pulled back and straightened, his panted breaths met with equally ragged breaths from Lucius. 

"Why did you betray me, my Lucius?" Voldemort asked, fingers leaving Lucius' skin with a last caress before they started to undo the buttons of his robes. 

Lucius' eyes, which had been dazed with lust, regained their usual perceptive edge. "My Lord, I assure you that I never –"

"Was your pureblood hide worth more than my flesh?" Voldemort's robes fell open around him, his glistening, pale prick bobbing between the dark fabric, and he dragged one clawed hand down Lucius' chest, leaving red welts in its path. 

"Of course not, my Lord." Lucius' panted breaths quickened, short, sharp gasps between words that held little truth. 

Voldemort stared down at Lucius, splayed out like a sacrificial lamb, ready to be gutted. The fire of arousal blazed higher inside of him, fueled by the traitorous lies that escaped his servant's lips.

"And yet you sold me out. How much did they offer you for my name? How much did it cost you to sell your lies for truth?" Voldemort bared his teeth, feral and threatening, and pushed the head of his penalizing cock against Lucius' slick entrance. 

Lucius stiffened, legs quivering as he kept them up and parted. "My Lord, it was nothing like that. We'd heard...there were rumors...we believed –"

"You believed me dead?" Voldemort roared, thrusting inside Lucius in one, brutal stroke. Lucius cried out in agony, but Voldemort paid him no heed, pulling back and plunging in again without mercy. 

"My Lord, forgive me." Lucius' voice wavered, shrill and fearful, and Voldemort hissed at the sound of that repulsive word. His hand reached inside his robes and he whipped out his wand as he buried himself inside Lucius again. Lucius' eyes widened at the sight of his Lord's wand pointed at him while his mouth screwed up in misery when Voldemort thrust in deep until his sac slapped against Lucius' flesh. 

It was so very tempting to whisper the Killing Curse, familiar, trusted words to silence that lying mouth. But Voldemort needed Lucius alive. It was also very tempting to cast a Cruciatus, to feel Lucius' body writhe in torture around his prick. But Voldemort needed Lucius sane and compliant.

Voldemort pressed the tip of his wand to Lucius' chest, posed over his heart, and kept thrusting his hips, without mercy and without care, his ravenous cock engulfed in throbbing, living flesh. 

It was alarming how easy it was to imagine driving his wand inside Lucius' body, to pierce his heart with the darkest and strongest of magic. It was a tempting image that made Voldemort's mouth water, thirsty for death and despair. He raked his wand down Lucius' flawless skin, hard enough to split it, and playful drops of blood welled up from the split flesh. 

Lucius gritted his teeth, eyes narrowed and burning with defiance, and Voldemort stared into them as he lowered his head and darted out his lithe tongue, licking across the cut. Voldemort drank the essence of Lucius' life and mortality and savored the coppery taste on his tongue. Life inside him and life around him, and Voldemort felt at ease in his own flesh for the first time since he'd possessed it. 

"Traitor," he snapped, licking blood off his thin lips. He pushed himself up and smirked when he saw that Lucius' prick was still hard, the head purple and gleaming and close to erupting in an undeserved climax. 

"Deserter." Voldemort wound his fingers around that eager flesh and jerked it, his own cock thrusting inside submitting flesh. "Defector." Lucius uttered a guttural groan and bucked his hips up and back against Voldemort's forceful prick. "Turncoat."

Hot seed spilled over Voldemort's fingers and strangled moans filled the oppressive air around them as Lucius climaxed, his expression filled with guilt and lacking penance.

Voldemort absorbed that guilt like a priest hearing a confession, but there would be no pardon for this sinner. He brought his hand up, and licked Lucius' semen off his fingers, relishing the bitter taste of betrayal on his tongue.

"My Lord," Lucius panted, eyes pleading. "Forgive me."

Orgasm overtook him, and Voldemort plunged into Lucius to spurt his semen deep inside that treacherous body with addictive, pale flesh and a disloyal, black heart. His hands gripped at Lucius' shoulders, and he slumped on top of his servant, Lucius' contracting body milking his sated prick. 

Voldemort glanced up at Lucius, and held his questioning gaze for a long time, silence building into strenuous expectation between them, and it shattered beyond repair when Voldemort spoke one word: "Never." 

~~fin~~


End file.
